


Betsy's

by Schuyler



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Professional Baker Eric Bittle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 19:39:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3352931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schuyler/pseuds/Schuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If all of his customers were as hot as this one, Eric was going to enjoy being at Samwell Commons.</p><p>“Welcome to Betsy’s! You’re our first customer!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Betsy's

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teddymackerel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddymackerel/gifts).



> For arcticbonobos, Happy Valentine's Day.
> 
> With thanks to sunfair, for helping with the idea, and blackbird, who just stared at me until I wrote it.

**Day 1**

Eric looked up, startled, as the bell over the door rang. He looked up and smiled. If all of his customers were as hot as this one, he was going to enjoy being at Samwell Commons.

“Welcome to Betsy’s! You’re our first customer!”

The tall drink of water went still. “Oh, are you not open yet?”

“We’re open! Just haven’t had anyone else in yet. What can I get you? The blueberry muffins are fresh out of the oven.”

“Uh, just wanted coffee? Lardo said you had coffee?”

“That we do! Something fancy, or just coffee?”

“Large. Skim milk.”

Not the most scintillating conversationalist Eric had ever encountered, but he went to the carafe anyway. “So, if you’re around this early, you must work around here?”

“Yeah. I have a practice on the north side of the square? I’m a doctor?”

“Oh, Dr. Zimmermann!” He added what he considered to be the perfect amount of milk and snapped a lid on the cup. “Since we’re neighbors, your first one’s on the house.”

“Oh, thanks...” He reached out hesitantly and took the cup. Then they stared at each other.

“Eric. I’m ... Eric.”

“Nice to meet you. I should go.” And Dr. Zimmermann disappeared. So maybe not the best start.

 

**Day 24**

“Morning, Jack!” Eric started pouring as soon as the door opened.

“Um. Hey.” In four weeks, Eric had made friends with most of the other store owners and employees on Samwell Commons, but Dr. Zimmermann still remained the hardest customer of the day.

“Sure I can’t tempt you with a pastry this morning? I made morning buns.”

“Um. I don’t do carbs.” Eric looked affronted and Jack winced. “Sorry.” He fumbled two dollars across the counter. “Have a good day.”

 

**Day 53**

“Jack,” Eric said, pulling himself up to his full height. “It is a Friday and it’s a three day weekend, so you have all the time in the world to work out or whatever it is you do. You aren’t leaving here without a muffin.” He shoves the bag across the counter. “I made it special for you. Cranberry bran.”

Jack looked at him, eyes wide. “I ... okay? You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I know what everyone else on the commons likes in the morning, but here you are insisting that you don’t need food.”

“I have an egg white omelet,” Jack says, peering in the bag. “Before I leave home.”

Eric pours Jack’s customary cup. “No bacon? No fruit salad even? That is so depressing.”

When he turns with the cup, he catches Jack sneaking a bite of the muffin. Jack’s eyes light up. “This is really good, Eric. Thank you.”

Eric blushes. He knows he blushes. He always blushes when someone compliments his cooking. “Thanks, um. It was no big deal.”

Jack gives him a five dollar bill. “I never get the muffins, so I don’t know how much this is?”

“$4.50 with tax.” Eric rings up the purchase, but Jack is halfway to the door.

“Keep the change. And thanks.”

 

**Day 72**

Eric was leaning against the counter in the co-op one afternoon, talking to the improbably named Shitty about dried fruits he could put in baked goods, when Jack walked in. And froze.

“Oh, hey Jack,” Shitty said. “I already pulled your seeds and shit.” He turned to the shelves of special orders while Jack stood frozen, staring at Eric.

“Hi,” Eric said, suddenly self-conscious. He stood a little straighter. “How are you?”

“Good. Thanks.”

Shitty hefted a sack onto the counter. “There you go, Jack. Already charged your card.”

Jack slid toward the counter and Eric stepped backward, nearly taking out a rack of lip balm. “Thanks. I’ll see you.”

Jack was gone in the next minute. Shitty squinted after him. “Well, that was weird as fuck.”

 

**Day 91**

“Oh, hi.”

“Hey! How can I help you?”

“Just getting a coffee. Are you new?”

“Yeah! I’m Chris!”

Eric was in the back, working on streusel muffins, but he could hear Chris and Jack talking through the little window. It was Chris’ first day working the morning shift, but he’d already done well enough in the afternoons that Eric was happy to trust him with the register and coffee. It gave him some time to do more complicated muffins and pastries before the morning rush. It also had the side benefit of shielding Eric from embarrassment over the new coffee menu.

“I’m Jack.”

“Oh! Are you Dr. Zimmermann? We changed the coffee menu! Eric named all the drinks after the people who order them. See?”

Jack laughed. Jack honest to God *laughed*. “Dr. Zed. That must be me. Then I guess I’ll have one of those.” There was a pause and the sound of the carafe, before Jack said. “So, how long have you worked here, Chris?”

“Two weeks! I’ve been doing the lunch rush to get up to speed, but I graduate to mornings this week.”

Jack laughed again. “Well, congrats, and thanks for the coffee.”

“Thanks for the tip, Dr. Zed!” Eric heard the bell and the door closing. Chris’ face appeared in the window. “I got a tip.” Eric hadn’t moved since the whole exchange had started. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. “Eric? Your butter is smoking.”

 

**Day 91 - Afternoon**

“Is it because I’m gay?” Eric was laying on the bench at R&H, the used sporting equipment store across the way from Betsy’s.

“You need to back up,” Holster said, looking up from where he was restringing a tennis racket. “Is what because you’re gay?”

“Jack came in this morning and talked to Chris. And they had a nice conversation and he asked questions and he was ... friendly!”

“Okay. And?”

Eric turned his head to look at Holster and Ransom, both peering over the counter at him. “Is he always like that?”

“Friendly? Yeah, he’s a family doctor. Kinda requires that you be a decent dude.”

“Is he not friendly to you?” Ransom asked.

“No! I mean, he’s not mean or anything, but he’s awkward and he knocks stuff over and refuses to eat my pastries! He can’t wait to get out of there. I bet if a Starbucks opened, I’d never see him again.”

“But that’s --” Ransom started.

“Jack?” Holster said. Then they looked at each other. “Ohhhhh.”

“Oh what?” Eric said, sitting up.

“Jack totally has a crush on you!” Ransom crowed, jumping to his feet.

Eric rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just making fun. Trust me. I know when a guy is into me.”

“Let’s look at the facts,” Holster says. “Jack goes all stammery and weird around you, but not around anyone else we know.”

“Because I’m gay.”

“Bro,” Ransom said. “You do realize that we’re married, right?” Eric tilted his head and Holster waved a non-matching wedding ring at him. How did he not put that together? “And we hang out with Jack all the time.”

“So then it’s just me,” Eric said, unable to keep from sounding sad.

“Yeah, because he wants to bone you,” Holster muttered.

“Don’t worry,” Ransom said. “We’ll get this sorted out.”

“No!” Eric shouted, waving his hands. “Promise me that you won’t talk to him about this.” Ransom and Holster just looked at each other. “Promise.”

They sighed in unison. “Fine. We promise.”

They were definitely wrong and how would it look if Jack thought Eric was lusting after him? (Which he totally was, but that wasn’t the point.) Eric would have to leave Massachusetts in shame.

 

**Day 95**

Every month, the stores of Samwell Commons had a meeting in the multipurpose space above the co-op. They talked about stuff like snow shoveling and the company hired to wash the windows and also gossiped and drank beer and ate whatever Eric had baked for the occasion. (This time it was lemon meringue and key lime pies. He was in a mood.)

“Oh, hey,” Jack said. He immediately went a little pink. “Um, it’s almost winter, which is flu season, so come by on Monday afternoon for free flu shots.”

“I don’t want to,” Shitty said. “Last year it hurt like fucking crazy. And then I got all run down and miserable.”

“For like two days,” Lardo said. “Meanwhile, if you were down for two weeks with the flu, who would have to look after your sick ass? You’re getting it.”

“But...” She raised an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. Jeez.

 

**Day 98**

“Hey, Eric!” Camilla said as he came into Zimmermann Family Medicine.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, leaning across to kiss her cheek. Camilla came in every day for lunch and sat at the counter so they could chat. “I brought you cookies.”

“You’re my favorite.” She stuck the container in her purse. “You’re also the last one.” Eric didn’t tell her that he’d spent most of the afternoon debating whether or not to come down and be alone in a room with Jack. It was only his fear of being some kind of Typhoid Mary of influenza and infecting all of his customers that dragged him down here ten minutes before they closed up for the night.

“Shitty’s in there, but I think they’re just talking. He’s been back there like half an hour. I’ll buzz Jack. Go on back. His office is at the end of the hall.”

Past the big door, there were two exam rooms, a little desk, and a door with Jack’s name written on a brass plaque. He heard the buzzer and the movement of chairs from beyond. The door opened, but Shitty wasn’t facing him. “Just do something. For real. Do something about him or you’re not coming to Christmas. Who’s going to feed me if he leaves?”

Jack mumbled something and Eric backed up a few steps so it wouldn’t look like he was eavesdropping.

Shitty finally came around the door. “Hey, Eric!”

“Hi. Did it hurt?”

“Not gonna lie, it stung, but I am a total wuss when it comes to needles.” Shitty clapped his shoulder and headed out.

Eric figured he couldn’t actually run away like he wanted to and poked his head in the door. “Jack?”

Jack looked up, startled, like he didn’t know Eric was coming. “Hey. Eric. Sit down.”

Jack had, in all honesty, the office of a 65 year old man. There was a huge desk in a dark wood, deep leather guest chairs, and a golf trophy. Jack sat in one of the guest chairs, his supplies laid out on the desk.

“We’re going to do this here?” Eric asked, easing into the other chair. Their knees almost touched.

“Um, it’s more comfortable? People think? But we could move to the exam room if you’d prefer?”

“No,” Eric said, shaking his head. “This is fine. I was just ... curious?” He slides out of his jacket, trying his hardest not to elbow Jack or his needles or anything. He probably should have done this part before he sat down.

Jack snapped on a new pair of gloves and opened an alcohol wipe. “You’re right handed, yes?” Eric nodded. “Then left arm up on the desk.”

Eric honestly wasn’t fond of needles, so he couldn’t look. He inhaled sharply at the cold of the wipe and scanned the room for something else to focus on. “You have a Keurig?” he asked, frowning.

“Oh, yeah,” Jack said, focused hard on filling the needle. “Makes good coffee.”

“Then why do you come to Betsy’s in the morning?” Jack’s hand froze in the air and Eric’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “Jack, do you like me?”

“You’re very nice,” he said, putting the needle down. “I mean ... fucking Shitty. I do. I like seeing you in the mornings.”

“Is it the kind of like where I could ask you over for dinner?” Eric leaned in a little bit, biting his lip. He knew how to do this part.

Jack inhaled and nodded. “I think it is.”

The silence stretched out and Jack was reaching for the needle again when Eric said, “Jack, would you like to come over for dinner tonight?” and his hand twitched, sending the empty vaccine bottle to the floor. When he looked up, Eric was grinning.

“You tried to startle me,” Jack said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Eric shrugged. “You can’t prove anything.”

Jack laughed. He laughed in this soft, self-effacing way that made everything feel lighter somehow. And Jack was absolutely stunning when he laughed. Eric almost couldn’t breathe. He held onto the edge of the table so he didn’t lean in for a kiss. “Okay, be good for a minute and let me give you this shot.”

Eric decided that he was allowed to stare now and looked right at Jack, at his impossibly bright blue eyes and the way his hair flopped over his forehead. He was also broad-shouldered in a way that had always turned Bitty’s crank. “Ouch!”

“Keep still. Just another few seconds.”

Eric watched Jack’s face of concentration as the needle came out and the cotton ball went on. “Hold that for just a minute,” he said, and then disposed of the trash and the needle. He came back to Bitty and their hands touched as he pulled away the cotton ball. “Looks good,” he said, and Bitty bit the inside of his cheek. They were so close that the urge to kiss was almost unbearable. Jack put a band-aid across the mark and wrapped his hand around Eric’s arm to secure it. “So, were you serious about dinner tonight?” He looked up and Eric could only nod. “I’d love to. Can you wait a few minutes for me to close up?”

Eric nodded. And then, because he had reached the end of his rope, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Jack’s lips. “I can wait.”

Jack’s cheeks flared red and he licked his lips. “Just five minutes. I promise. Gotta go turn off the lights.” Jack took off the gloves and got up, got halfway to the door, then darted back and tipped Eric’s face up for another kiss, this one almost desperate. Jack whimpered and Eric shivered. “Five minutes,” Jack said, then darted out of the door.

Eric really hoped they actually got around to food.


End file.
